


Howard Moon, Male Prostitute

by blackmountainbones



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Adult baby, Bringing Back the Boosh, Crack, Diaper Kink, Lactation Kink, M/M, Piss Play, Prompt #5: NSFW, Prostitution, Smut, Smut and Crack, This was supposed to be a joke, Voyeurism, handjobs, he deserves a little happiness, he's suffered enough, howard moon will bum you silly for loose change, i didn't want to write this but the muse took me hostage, i must have done something very very bad to deserve this, i never thought i'd ever use these tags, nana kink, poor boy, seriously howard how do you keep getting yourself into these situations?, somehow howard gets a happy ending, the muse made me do it, vince is too curious for his own good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones
Summary: A man like Howard Moon is sure to be destined for greatness. Unfortunately, a zookeeper's salary doesn't exactly keep Howard in the lifestyle that a man of his talent deserves. When Bob Fossil propositions Howard, offering him a generous reimbursement for services rendered, Howard is quick to agree... even if he isn't quite sure which services, exactly, he's agreed to render upon the deranged Bob Fossil. What exactly is an adult baby, and what does the nana costume have to do with it?Like it or not, Howard's about to find out....





	Howard Moon, Male Prostitute

**Author's Note:**

> Be careful what you spam the Discord with. Your muse might latch onto a horrible, horrible troll of a plotbunny and not let you go until you've written the thing, no matter how terrible it is. 
> 
> This is the worst thing I've ever written, and was inspired by Cully's [infamous post](https://culumacilinte.tumblr.com/post/184789738802/i-got-a-review-on-my-old-rudispider-fic-the-other) bemoaning the dearth of bad-dirty-wrong Booshfic in recent years. I got a bit carried away, and was thinking out loud about the worst fic I could write, when I asked "What kinds of kinks does Bob Fossil have?" Immediately, the muse woke up from her restful slumber and told me "ADULT BABY. FOSSIL IS AN ADULT BABY". I tried to ignore the siren's call, but then the muse proceeded to kick my ass for an entire month until I finished the damn thing.
> 
> Mad props to [walkwithursus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkwithursus/pseuds/walkwithursus), who was brave enough to beta this terrible, terrible thing.

“Howard Moon,” the zoo manager Bob Fossil’s voice howled over the loudspeaker, “Get your Northern pumpkin ass into my office posthaste!”

Howard sat, defiantly grooming his moustache and ignoring the obnoxious American bleating as best as he could.

Vince looked up from the picture book he was reading. “Ain’t you gonna go see Fossil?” he asked with a false innocence.

Innocence, Howard thought, did not suit his friend and fellow zookeeper very well at all. “Nope,” he said, continuing to preen over his facial hair.

“Why not?” Vince asked. “Everyone already knows you’re Fossil’s bitch.”

Howard blanched awkwardly. “No sir, Howard Moon is no man’s bitch!” he protested. It came out a bit more weakly than he’d intended. He’d always been rubbish at lying.

Vince rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, a bit too smugly for Howard’s liking.

His smugness alarmed Howard. “What do you mean, _whatever?”_ he asked.

Vince shrugged. “Leroy said he saw you dancing for Fossil in nothing but little blue pants! _Sexy_ dancing, too!”

Howard almost dropped his moustache comb in shock. How could Leroy have seen _that_? It only happened late at night, well after the zoo had closed and the keepers had gone home for the evening. The idea that Leroy--or anyone else--had seen his secret shame shocked him. Howard tried to deny Vince’s accusations, but the telltale blush creeping from his cheeks to his chest gave him away.

“Ha!” Vince crowed, all too triumphant for Howard’s liking.

“You don’t know the half of it. I’m playing Fossil from both sides,” he blustered in an attempt to take control of the situation. With any luck, Vince would inform the other keepers of Howard’s plan to play Fossil during the one of many impromptu gossip sessions with their fellow keepers, which would make Howard seem like more of a man of action and less like a man giving action to Bob Fossil for the extra cash, which, as much as Howard hated to admit it, was the _real_ reason behind his late-night... activities.

The loudspeaker crackled to life. “Moon! Where are you, Moon?” Fossil’s voice blared. “I have your diary, Moon! If you don’t walk through my door in thirty seconds I’m going to read it over the loudspeaker.”

Howard sighed, a long, put-upon sound. He put his moustache comb in his pocket and got to his feet.

“Where you goin’, Howard?” Vince teased. “Gonna go see Fossil, maybe dance for him some more?”

Howard wanted nothing more than to slap the self-satisfied smirk from Vince’s face. But he was a diplomat, not the kind of man who resorted to wanton acts of violence, no sir. “Shut your face,” Howard scolded. It did nothing to wipe the snarky expression from Vince’s lips.

“The cream moon hangs sweetly in the creamy sky, moonlight spilling like spilled cream against creamy skin...”

Howard raced to the door, desperate to stop Fossil before he got to the embarrassing bits.

“You’re Fossil’s _bitch_ ,” Vince said, altogether too gleeful at the prospect of Howard’s humiliation.

“I’m playing him! From both sides!” Howard protested, slamming the door to the keeper’s hut behind him for emphasis.

 

 

“Now, I know you’re probably asking yourself why I’ve called you here today…” Fossil began. “You’re a terrible man and an even worse zookeeper, but a talented male prostitute--”

“Hold on there! I’m not a prostitute!”

“Shut your talky face hole!” Fossil bellowed.

Howard, chagrined, shut up. He gazed at Fossil with an intensity that burned with hatred.

“Now, Howard, I’m only going to say this once, so open those tiny eyes of yours and listen closely.” Fossil narrowed his eyes, trying to look serious, but, when combined with his bouffant hairstyle and undersized blue polyester suit, the overall effect was deranged. “I’ve hired a lot of male prostitutes in my life, but they all laugh and say mean things to me when I tell them my deepest, darkest fantasy. You’re my last hope, and also, you’re a disgusting pervert who sodomizes foxes and gets off with llamas--”

“First of all, the llama was in the line of duty. That llama was on a rampage, hoofing people left and right, and it’s one of the few ways to calm a llama down! And as for Jack Cooper… That’s nothing more than a filthy rumor!”

“Rumor?” Fossil chuckled. “No, it’s all true.”  

Howard was about to ask for proof, but realized he didn’t want to see it. The time he’d spent with Jack Cooper had been a dark period in his life, and he did not want to revisit it, lest he be traumatized anew by the memories. “What did you want to tell me, Mr Fossil?”

“It’s simple. You see, other men look at me and they see a successful zoo manager, running a successful zoo” (Howard had to stifle a derisive laugh at Fossil’s deluded description of himself), “but on the inside, I’m a little baby boy who needs to be taken care of--”

Howard couldn’t help it--he snorted.

“Don’t laugh!” Fossil shouted. “I’m offering you a lot of money to do this for me.”

“Do what?” Howard asked. He choked a bit as he bit down on another chuckle, not wanting to spoil his chance to earn a lot of money.

“I need you to take care of me like I’m your little blue blanket boy and you’re my mommy,” Fossil said, as if that explained anything.

“Don’t you mean ‘daddy’?” Howard asked, confused by the request.

Bob Fossil looked at Howard like he was stupid for asking such a question. “No, my _mommy_ ,” he insisted.

Howard wanted to argue, but he also wanted Fossil’s money, so he kept his mouth shut.

“It’s so simple even someone with an ass bigger than their brain can understand it. And by ‘someone with an ass bigger than their brain’ I mean you, Howard Moon,” Fossil said. “You dress up as my mommy and take care of your little baby boy.”

“What does that mean?” Howard was genuinely confused. Sure, he’d gotten off with a llama or two, and there had been that _thing_ with Jack Cooper the fox, and yeah, he’d been giving Fossil lapdances for some extra cash, but that had been the extent of his sexual exploits thus far. What Fossil was describing was so far out of his experience that he had no idea where to start.

Fossil picked up his Dictaphone and muttered into it. “Note to self: Howard Moon is the worst person in the world.”

“Oi!” Howard protested. “If I’m so terrible, then why are you asking _me_ to indulge your weird sex fetishes?”

Fossil rolled his eyes. “Listen, you , no one here in England is as much of a massive pervert as you are. Stop wasting my time, and tell me--you in, or not?”

Though Howard was a bit insulted at having been called a massive pervert, he was smart enough to know that if he kept arguing, Fossil would rescind his offer, and Howard would have to go back to being broke. “How much are we talking?”

“Three hundred pounds,” Fossil said.

Howard stifled the impulse to whistle. That was a lot of coin for something that would last an hour or two, at most. “Four hundred,” he said, in an attempt to negotiate.

“Two hundred,” was Fossil’s counteroffer.

“That’s not fair!” Howard said. Fossil got up and started to walk to the office door, and Howard knew he was beat. “Fine, two hundred fifty pounds, and I’m off dung duty for two weeks.”

“One week,” Fossil said, and Howard, knowing better than to try pushing his luck, agreed.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Fossil plopped into his fancy office chair. The cushion made an embarrassing sound beneath him. Nonplussed, Fossil rummaged in his desk drawer, extricating a brown-paper-wrapped package that he handed to Howard. “Just show up here at the usual time, wearing _this._ ”

Curious, Howard made to open the package.

“Naughty, naughty,” Fossil admonished. “No peeking!”

Howard huffed, shoving the package under his green Zooniverse jacket, and left the office without looking back. He knew what he’d see anyway--Fossil would be rubbing his nipples and making lascivious faces--and he had no interest in seeing Fossil being gross.

Not unless he was being paid for it, at least. A man had to have his principles, and Howard Moon was nothing if not a principled man.

 

 

Howard snuck back to the zookeeper’s hut, luckily managing to avoid running into any of his fellow keepers. He quickly cased the hut, finding no sign of Vince (or anyone else, for that matter, though the other keepers avoided the hut as a rule, citing the fact that it reeked of homosexual desperation and sadness), then settled into the sofa, furtively unwrapping the package Fossil had given him.

As soon as he saw its contents, he grimaced. For some reason, Fossil had provided him with an ugly floral-print dress, the type that nanas wore to church, a strand of cheap-looking fake pearls, and a pair of nude pantyhose. Howard could not fathom what sort of acts Fossil had in mind that would require such an outfit.

It was well weird, and didn’t make any sense at all. Except for the pantyhose--Howard’s sexual experiences might have been limited, but he did have to admit that pantyhose could be well sexy, though personally, he preferred black, the kind with a seam running up the back that traced the contours of the wearer’s leg. Howard thought he might actually look kind of good in that sort of thing--after all, his legs were his best feature, long and willowy, despite the fact that Vince said they looked more like two drainpipes propping up a beanbag.

What did Vince know about what made a man’s legs sexy or not, anyway? He was so young and simple-minded that Howard doubted he knew much about that kind of thing. Every time he tried to imagine Vince in any kind of sexual situation, Howard got a weird feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t quite nausea, but it was uncomfortable enough that he didn’t like to think about it too much.

The door to the keeper’s hut creaked open, and Howard quickly shoved the offending items under the couch cushion.

“Oi, what are you doing here?” Vince griped. “The octopus got out of his tank again.”

“Can’t help you there, mate,” Howard said. “I’m aviary, you’re aquarium.” It was technically true, though Howard was such an accomplished zookeeper that he could have easily helped Vince recapture the wayward cephalopod. He wasn’t _lazy_ \--he just didn’t want to.

Vince narrowed his eyes, but at least he did not try to argue with Howard’s watertight logic. “What did Fossil want to talk to you about, anyway?” Vince asked.

“Nothing,” Howard said, a little too quickly to be believable.

“Nothing?” Vince scoffed. “You were in there an awful long time to be talking about nothing.”

Part of Howard was curious as to how Vince knew how long he’d been in Fossil’s office, but a bigger part of him was nervous that Vince had come close to figuring out his secret.

Luckily, Vince was highly suggestible, a fact that Howard often used to his advantage. Whenever Vince got a little too curious about what Howard got up to when he wasn’t with Vince, all Howard had to do was use a little misdirection to distract him. “You might want to hurry up and find that octopus, Vince,” Howard said. “You remember when Naboo harvested all those owl beaks.”

“Course I do! It was a right bloodbath!”

“Well, I heard Naboo talking to that shaman friend of his who works at Dixon’s about how one octopus beak has the magical properties of a hundred owl beaks…”

“That stinking shaman! He can’t keep going around harvesting the zoo animals for his shaman business! If he messes with one tentacle on that octopus’s head, I’ll cut his hair into a mullet, and not one of the fashionable ones, neither!”

With that, Vince left the zookeeper’s hut, leaving Howard to hide the weird fetish gear Bob Fossil had given him properly--in his collection of jazz records, which Howard knew Vince would never touch on account of that fact that every time he did, he broke out in unsightly hives.

 

 

Howard stared at himself in the mirror and frowned. He _hated_ Fossil with every fiber of his being. The man was constantly inventing new ways of humiliating him, and this latest endeavor was a new depravity, even for a man as depraved as Fossil.

But times were tough, and working as a zookeeper didn’t exactly keep Howard in a life of luxury. Actually, if Howard was being honest, he could barely afford the necessities of life on his wages. His apartment was shite. The food he ate was shite. The clothes he wore were shite.

It was a travesty. Howard knew that he was destined for great things the way he knew his own name. It just seemed that the world was slow to catch on to Howard’s potential for greatness. Howard Moon deserved _more_ . The problem was, he needed money to develop his potential, money he didn’t have--but _Fossil_ did.

Howard shook his head. He’d made up his mind: he would go to Fossil’s office that evening, dressed up in the stupid outfit Fossil had chosen for him, commit the degenerate acts Fossil was paying him to commit, and collect his money. Admittedly, he had no idea what this whole baby boy business was all about, but Howard reasoned that men of action weren’t supposed to be afraid of the unknown--a _true_ man of action got off on the unknown. In a metaphorical sense.

Howard looked at himself in the mirror once more and made a face of disgust. The white-haired wig Fossil had chosen for him looked fake and dowdy, and the chintzy floral patterned dress did absolutely nothing for his figure. And the pantyhose was two shades too dark, made of a cheap nylon that pricked against the hair on his legs and itched something fierce.

It was a small mercy that Fossil hadn’t made him shave his moustache. Howard may not have had his pride, but at least he still had his moustache.

With one last look in the mirror, Howard shut the door behind him and made his way from the keeper’s hut to Fossil’s office. In his haste to get his distasteful task done with, he failed to notice the small, messy-haired shadow peeking through the window of the hut, nor did he hear the rustle of leaves as the shadow ducked down behind the bushes and safely out of sight as Howard trekked across the grounds of the Zooniverse in full nana.

 

 

Howard wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been _this_ : Bob Fossil wearing nothing but a diaper, his fat stomach bulging over the waistband of the plastic pants as he lay on a pastel-toned blanket gaudily printed with rubber duckies, an oversize binky, a baby bottle, and a pile of wooden blocks at his side.

“What the hell is this? Why are you wearing a diaper?” Howard’s voice had gone shrill with panic as he thought of the things Fossil might do with the diaper during tonight’s... activities.

“I’m a baby! Why wouldn’t I be wearing a diaper? Have you ever met a baby who doesn’t wear a diaper?” Fossil asked, looking at Howard like he thought he was the stupidest man in the world for even daring to ask such a question.

“You’ve gone wrong, Mr Fossil.” Howard was growing worried--though less so for the state of Bob Fossil’s mind than he was for himself. “You’re a grown man _pretending_ to be a baby.”

“Exactly!” Fossil exclaimed. “You’re an idiot, Howard, but I knew you’d get it eventually.”

“What is it I’m supposed to get, exactly?” Howard asked.

Fossil pointed at the props he’d laid out on his gaudy blanket. “Well, the toys are for happy fun times and the binky’s for when I start crying and you need to shut me up, just like my _real_ Mommy used to do,” Fossil explained.

Well, that didn’t sound _too_ awful. Perhaps Howard had been a bit hasty in his judgement and jumped to conclusions when he’d noticed the diaper.

“Okay,” Howard said, kneeling cautiously next to Fossil on the blanket. His pantyhose rode up uncomfortably, and he tried to rearrange his bits surreptitiously.

Fossil was not the most observant man--in fact, he barely noticed anything, even the big things like when the lion had escaped and almost eaten a Russian tourist--but _of course_ he noticed Howard trying to pick the seam of the pantyhose out from where they’d wedged up his backside. “See,” Fossil crowed, “I knew you were enough of a big, disgusting pervert to get off on this!”

Howard shoved the binky into his mouth to make him shut up. “Babies don’t talk,” he admonished, clucking his tongue disapprovingly.

Fossil’s eyes went wide at the rough treatment, and his diaper bulged suspiciously. Howard sighed and did his best to avert his eyes from the bulky plastic pants. It wasn’t the first time that Fossil had gotten an erection during one of these sessions, but Howard didn’t like looking at it.

“What does little Bobby Bob Bob want to play?” Howard asked in a sing-song voice, happy that he was easily able to disguise his mocking tone as baby talk. “Does widdle Bobby Bob want to play with blockies?”

Fossil sucked on the binky with a loud slurp and nodded. When Howard handed him the blocks, he played quietly, stacking then toppling them with an innocent glee.

Occasionally, Howard helped him arrange the blocks, offering sporadic encouragement. This wasn’t so bad, he reflected; in fact, it was kind of calming, this, simply sitting and playing with toys. Howard smirked. This would be the easiest two hundred fifty pounds he ever earned in his life.

But Howard’s satisfaction was short-lived. Soon Fossil spat out the binky, which landed in Howard’s lap, the drool leaving a wet spot on his floral dress. “Hey! What did you do that for?”

Fossil pouted. “I’m hungry, Mommy!”

Howard reached for the bottle, which Fossil knocked out of his hand brattily.

“No!” Fossil wailed, kicking his feet and looking like he was on the verge of a full-blown tantrum. “Feed me like a real mommy!”

“I’m _trying_ to,” Howard griped. How _else_ did one feed a hungry baby? Surely Fossil didn’t mean--

“Your teat!” Fossil whined, clutching at the fabric of Howard’s dress. The cheap material tugged at the seams ominously. “Feed me from your teat!”

“No way!” Howard crossed his arms over his chest protectively. “I’m not doing _that!”_

Fossil lay on his back and flailed his limbs, wailing loudly. When Howard tried to force the binky back into his mouth to stifle his cries, he spat it into Howard’s face and howled deafeningly. Defeated and more than a little panicked that someone might hear Fossil’s cries, Howard reluctantly began to undo the buttons at his chest.

“C’mon, little guy, stop crying. Mummy’s going to feed you now,” Howard soothed. Grimacing, he gathered Fossil onto his lap, cradling him like the oversize baby he was.

With greedy hands, Fossil began kneading Howard’s tits. “Mommy has such big titties,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Mommy must have lots of milk for his little baby boy.”

Sighing, Howard guided Fossil’s head to his chest. He hated everything about this, but he figured that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get paid. So what if Howard hated himself for doing this? Money could buy lots of things that Howard didn’t hate, things like tickets to jazz concerts and new guitar strings, even if they did nothing to staunch his self-loathing.

Fossil latched onto Howard’s nipple with his sharp teeth. “No teeth! That hurts,” Howard cried, slapping his face, just a little bit, to make him stop biting Howard in the nipple.

What Fossil did next was even worse--he moaned. Howard felt it vibrate through the sensitive nerve endings, and shivered, half in disgust, and half in arousal. He cursed himself silently--his nipples had always been unusually sensitive for a man, and the very last thing he wanted to do was get aroused during one of Fossil’s games. That would be far too humiliating, worse than any of the myriad other humiliating things Fossil had made him do thus far.

Several minutes passed as Fossil sucked on Howard’s tits, one, then the other, kneading them as if trying to squeeze out more milk. Howard wanted to close his eyes, but he also didn’t want to risk forgetting just who was sucking at his nipples lest he get an erection. “Aren’t you done yet?” he asked, unable to stifle the note of annoyance in his voice completely.

“No!” Fossil pouted.

“Well, finish up! My tits are starting to hurt!” Howard griped. He was tempted to slap the man again, but he definitely didn’t want Fossil to moan again, especially not when he was still slurping at Howard’s nipple.

“Tell me I’m going to grow up to be a big boy,” Fossil ordered.

Howard rolled his eyes but obliged. “You’re going to grow up to be a big boy,” he repeated grudgingly.

The evil man nursing at his chest _pinched_ him. “That is shit! That is pure liquid shit! _You’re_ pure liquid shit!” He pinched Howard again, harder this time. “I’m paying you to say it like you mean it!”

Internally cursing the Gods, Fate, and Bob Fossil, Howard indulged the demand. “You’re going to grow up too fast if you keep drinking so much of Mommy’s milk! Mommy doesn’t want her little itty-bitty baby growing up just yet!”

Satisfied, Fossil finally detached himself from Howard’s nipples. “Now burp me,” he cooed, making infantile nonsense sounds.

Howard patted the man’s back gently.

“Harder, you puddle of fragrant soft cheese! Really give it to me!”

Howard hit him harder. He liked this, he decided--not in a sexual way, but a part of him was satisfied to know he was getting paid to slap Fossil.

His satisfaction was cut short by the loud and foul-smelling burp Fossil released right into his nostrils. Caught off guard, Howard tossed Fossil from his lap. “Christy, that’s putrid! What the hell have you been eating?”

Fossil glared. “It’s your fault! Your milk’s gone all rotten!”  
  
Howard declined to point out that he wasn’t _actually_ lactating, and therefore Fossil’s foul-smelling emissions had nothing to do with him. Besides, Fossil looked dangerously close to losing his cool, and Howard didn’t want to risk his chances of collecting the money Fossil had promised him, especially considering the humiliations to which he’d subjected himself so far tonight. “Sorry, baby,” Howard grumbled. “Mummy is so tired. She hasn’t slept since you’ve been born, and it’s not easy being a single mother--” 

“Moon!” Fossil roared. “This is supposed to be _my_ fantasy! I don’t want to hear about your pathetic life!”

Howard shoved the binky back into his mouth. Luckily, Fossil didn’t try to spit it at him this time.

But what happened next was even _worse._ Fossil screwed up his face and squirmed. Soon enough, his diaper began to sag suspiciously, and a salty-sour tang that Howard immediately recognized as piss filled the room.

“Oh _fuck_ no,” Howard moaned, burying his head in his hands. He’d been afraid that this would happen when he’d seen Fossil in the diaper. This had to be a nightmare. In a panic, he gave himself a Chinese burn in the hope that the sudden pain would shock him awake.

No such luck. When Howard opened his eyes, he was not back in his bunk at the zookeeper’s hut, listening to Vince mumble in his sleep about Topshop sales. He was still in Fossil’s office, and Fossil was still lying on the floor wearing a wet and sagging diaper, muttering something around the binky in his mouth that sounded suspiciously like _oh fuck yes._ Looking all too satisfied with himself, Fossil spat out the binky. ”Well? Isn’t Mommy going to change his little baby boy’s stinky diaper?”

Howard had never hated Fossil more than he did at this very moment. He wanted to tell Fossil off, but he had come too far to give up now, especially when the money was almost his…

As if able to sense Howard’s defeat, Fossil spread his legs and did something obscene with his hips. “C’mon, Moon. You don’t want to be a bad mommy. Bad mommies don’t get paid, you know.”

It wasn’t the kind of thought Howard had ever imagined himself having, but he certainly hoped that the bulge between Fossil’s legs was just from the piss soaking into the diaper as he reached forward to unfasten the adhesive holding the plastic pants closed.

But because Howard was an unlucky man, it wasn’t. Fossil’s penis was as fat and ugly as the man to which it was attached. Howard couldn’t help the grimace that wracked him when the organ was exposed, and he yanked the piss-soaked diaper out from under the deplorable man’s hips, tossing it into a corner of the office where it landed with a wet _splat_.

The smell of piss was stronger now, Fossil’s genitals, stomach, and thighs glistening with moisture. He tried to fit another diaper on the man as quickly as possible, so desperate to avoid touching him any more than absolutely necessary that he didn’t even bother to wipe him clean.

Fossil didn’t seem to mind being soaked with piss, but he resisted Howard’s efforts to put on the clean diaper. He wriggled, his penis bobbing up and down as Howard swallowed, desperately trying to avoid gagging. He was sure that he would vomit if he didn’t.

“Squeeze it,” Fossil ordered.

Howard opened his mouth to refuse, but Fossil chose that moment to remind him that he was being paid, damn it, and being given a week off dung duty, and did he want to have to be the only keeper shoveling shit for an entire month, because Fossil was the zoo manager, and he could make Howard’s life miserable, yes Howard, you’re already a miserable bastard, but do you want to be even _more_ miserable…

“Only bad boys play with their ding-a-lings. Say it!” Fossil ordered, wagging his penis at Howard.

“Um, only bad boys play with their ding, um, ding-a-lings?” Howard’s voice rose unconvincingly as he forced himself to repeat the words without choking on his disgust or the bile rising in his throat.

“I hate you so much, Moon,” Fossil groaned.

“Sorry! I, uh, don’t exactly have much, er, experience in this kind of thing,” Howard stuttered as he tried to explain. In fact, he didn’t have _any_ experience in this kind of thing. Somehow, Howard had never considered that his first sexual experience would involve Bob Fossil, an adult diaper, piss, and a nana wig. He’d always assumed that when he finally managed to cross the physical barrier with another human being, that it would involve candlelight and champagne and a beautiful woman.

His fantasies couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Well, say it better!” Fossil demanded.

Howard took a deep breath. “Only bad boys play with their ding-a-lings.” His voice was stronger and a bit more sure this time.

“Now squeeze it!”

Howard grasped Fossil’s ugly penis loosely in his hand. It was sticky with piss, purple, veiny and strangely naked-looking--unlike his own penis, Fossil’s seemed to be lacking a foreskin. Howard remembered having heard somewhere that that was an American thing, and Howard felt a momentary surge of gratitude that he’d been born in a country that didn’t subject babies to involuntary genital mutilation at birth.

“What’s your problem, Moon? Never touched a dick before?” Fossil taunted. He was breathing deep, starting to gasp between those horrible squealing sounds.

“Of course I have,” Howard muttered.

“Yeah, your own.”

“It still counts!” Howard protested.

“Stop acting like such a virgin!” Fossil spat. “I’m not paying you to look at it. I said squeeze it!”

Howard was struck by a wave of hatred for Fossil so strong that he almost choked on it. Luckily, hating Fossil made it easier for him to tighten his grip on Fossil’s disgusting, weird-looking cock and _squeeze_.

The sudden change in pressure made Fossil yelp.

Feeling wretched and hating himself more than ever, Howard began to tug on Fossil’s fat, ugly penis. Fossil’s prick was still moist with urine, but at least the slickness made it easier for Howard to stroke him. Howard didn’t bother to tease or be gentle; he was trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, and wanking Fossil a little more tightly and roughly than was pleasurable.

Not that Fossil seemed to mind. He thrashed on the floor, pushing his ugly prick into Howard’s palm and making sounds that might have been moans but mostly sounded like the squeals of a pig.

“I should have known your wrists would be too limp to do this properly,” Fossil grumbled into Howard’s thigh.

“What did you say?” Howard hissed.

“I said you’re too much of a pansy to give a man a proper handjob! Put your wrists into it!”

Howard wasn’t sure what Fossil meant by that, but he wanked Fossil harder. Hate and bile swirled in Howard’s stomach, rising up his throat dangerously as Fossil humped into Howard’s hand.

Overcome with hatred and disgust, Howard released Fossil’s cock. Instead of wanking him, Howard slapped him on his ugly penis with one hand, reaching to twist his hairy, wrinkled bollocks in the other. He kept slapping and twisting, taking satisfaction in the expression of agony on Fossil’s blotchy, bloated face. One more savage yank of Fossil’s bollocks was all it took: the sensation was finally enough to take Fossil over the edge, and he came as he did everything else: loudly.

The thick semen dribbled out of Fossil’s penis and into Howard’s hand. It smelled strongly of bleach and broccoli, and was thicker and stickier than Howard’s own. All in all, it was _well_ disgusting.

Fossil looked so content with himself and the world, and his serene expression made Howard even angrier. He removed his dirty hand from Fossil’s now-flaccid penis to shove his palm in the man’s face, smearing the horrible man’s horrible release all over his face.

Fossil squirmed, trying to free himself from Howard’s grip, but Howard just held on more tightly. “Take it, you naughty baby. You know, good boys don’t get spunk on their faces. But you’re not a good boy, right Bobby? You’re a bad boy. The _worst_ boy.”

The insults backfired. Fossil seemed to be getting off on it, and Howard jerked his hand free, his face twisted with an expression of disgust. “You’ve got off,” Howard growled, “now where’s my money?”

“Is that any way to treat a man after you’ve made wild, sweet love with him?” Fossil grumbled, looking none too happy at having his afterglow cut short.

“Sweet love?” Howard mocked, derision dripping from his tongue. “You’ve gone wrong, Fossil! That wasn’t sweet love! That was--that was an abomination! Pure corruption! I’ve debased myself for you enough… now I want the money you promised me!” His voice rose into a yell, and the vein in his temple throbbed threateningly.

Fossil tossed a wad of bills in Howard’s face. “Here’s your money, you disgusting gigolo!”

Howard paid him no mind as he counted the notes--they totaled three hundred pounds, not the two hundred fifty they’d agreed on. Howard saw no reason to alert Fossil of this fact before attempting to shove the bills into his pocket. Unfortunately, the ugly floral nana dress lacked pockets, so Howard unceremoniously lifted his skirt and stuffed the money into his pantyhose before turning and walking swiftly out of Fossil’s office, making sure to slam the door behind him.

So intent was Howard on marching back to the keeper’s hut that he almost tripped over an obstacle in his path. With a curse, he kicked blindly at the offending object, jumping when it squealed.

“Oi! What’re you kicking at me for?” the object groused.

The rage that had been blinding Howard dissipated all at once. “Vince?” he gasped.

Vince lifted himself to his feet. “Yeah, it’s me!” he crowed happily.

Howard’s stomach sank as he realized something--namely, that Vince had been crouched in the bushes next to Fossil’s office window. Next, Howard realized something else: so eager had he been to get Fossil’s disgusting game over with, he’d neglected to make sure that the curtains had been closed. Then, Howard realized one last thing: _Vince had been watching the whole sordid incident._

With a yowl of despair, Howard froze. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Howard,” Vince said, reaching up fling an arm around Howard’s back. His fingers massaged the tension out of Howard’s shoulders gently. “I ain’t gonna tell no one.”

Though Howard normally avoided any and all physical contact, he had to admit Vince’s familiar touch was soothing after all the debasement he’d experienced. He felt his disgust and self-hatred ebb a bit, and though he was trying to be angry at Vince for snooping on him, he was too worn-out and exhausted to muster anything more than a put-upon sigh. “Thanks, Vince,” Howard said, relieved. Annoying as Vince could be sometimes, what with the following Howard around and poking into his personal business and such, Howard was happy to know that he had a friend to rely on to keep his secrets for him.

“That is,” Vince said, grinning dangerously, “for a price.”

Howard stopped short. “What price?” His voice was high-pitched and panicking. Sure, Fossil had made good on his end of the bargain, but he didn’t fancy having to give away all of his hard-earned cash so quickly. He had plans for that money--he was saving to buy a new guitar, and maybe some takeout for lunch tomorrow.

“Well,” Vince mused. “Some of that was well weird. You know, like the diaper and everything. But not all of it.”

Howard’s stomach dropped as he waited for Vince to continue speaking.

“Like the thing with your tits and the nana. That looked well... something.” Vince’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he licked his lips and batted his eyelashes. “You think you would ever want to do that with--with _me_?”

Howard pinched himself, certain he was dreaming. It hurt, so at least he was pretty sure he was awake. He was getting that weird feeling in his stomach again, halfway between wanting to throw up and (something else). “Wait--what?” he asked. His voice sounded strange--high pitched yet hoarse around the edges, utterly unlike his usual tone.

“The nana and the tit-sucking,” Vince repeated, as though he said those kinds of things all the time. “And that whole spunk in the face thing? I wouldn’t mind a bit of that, neither. Specially not if it were _my_ spunk on _your_ face.”

Before he knew what he was saying, Howard had already said it: “Sure, little man.” He was more than a bit surprised at how easily he agreed. But he was even more surprised to realize that the idea of asking Vince for money to perform such acts never crossed his mind.

Vince grinned, the hand on Howard’s shoulder dropping down to grasp Howard’s and twine their fingers together. They walked hand-in-hand to the keeper’s hut, and for the first time in his life, Howard felt like a rich man. Strangely, the money tucked into his pantyhose didn’t seem to have anything to do with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Me to the Muse: THANKS I HATE IT
> 
> The Muse: ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º )
> 
> Well, I had to write it, so if you read it, leave a comment letting the muse know how much you hate yourself right now. She's a bit sadistic and gets off on it, that SLUT.


End file.
